


To distract our hearts from ever missing them (But I'm forever missing him)

by salvatorestjohn



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Lorenzo "Enzo" St. John, Multi, No Romance, Valentine's Day, because we love missed chances to confess that means he never gets to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22725148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: "It's Valentine's Day," Landon says as if that explains everything, including his strange, most likely well-intentioned kindness. "And you've been here pretty much all day, which makes you the best customer I've had, so.""Great," Damon says wryly. "I'm being pitied by a sixteen-year-old.""It's not pity." Landon shakes his head and lifts a hand, pointing to the other end of the bar. "And it's not from me, anyway. Apparently it's an olive branch? Is she...like, an ex or something? Actually, you don't need to answer that, I'm sorry."Damon barely registers his innocent prying, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and already turning his head to look where Landon's indicating. In the second it takes, the possibilities of who it could be run wild through his mind like demons released from hell.
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore, Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore/Lorenzo "Enzo" St. John, Damon Salvatore/Lorenzo "Enzo" St. John
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	To distract our hearts from ever missing them (But I'm forever missing him)

The slight scrape of a glass being placed down in front of him makes Damon lift his head. The new busboy who seems to have been stuck on bartending duty sends him an empathetic sort of smile. As if he can sense what's going on in his head. Psychics are a thing, he remembers, and that only makes the pit in his stomach worse than it already was, because thinking about the sirens means also thinking about the reason he's drinking himself to, hopefully, unconsciousness so that this day can finally be over. 

"I didn't order this," Damon tells him. At least he doesn't think he did. He remembers drinking something and then putting his head down on his arms for a few minutes, but he had told himself that he would leave after that last drink. Go home, wallow there in the privacy of his own house, which thankfully isn't overrun with tiny witches and baby wolves and newborn vamps like his old one. 

The busboy—Landon, he remembers from hearing Caroline mention him a couple of times, something about fire and wings—shrugs as Damon pulls the glass toward him all the same. He's not one to pass up a free drink.

"It's Valentine's Day," Landon says as if that explains everything, including his strange, most likely well-intentioned kindness. "And you've been here pretty much all day, which makes you the best customer I've had, so."

"Great," Damon says wryly. "I'm being pitied by a sixteen-year-old."

"It's not pity." Landon shakes his head and lifts a hand, pointing to the other end of the bar. "And it's not from me, anyway. Apparently it's an olive branch? Is she...like, an ex or something? Actually, you don't need to answer that, I'm sorry."

Damon barely registers his innocent prying, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and already turning his head to look where Landon's indicating. In the second it takes, the possibilities of who it could be run wild through his mind like demons released from hell. 

Katherine, somehow resurrected. Or maybe Sybil's back from wherever she disappeared. Or even Elena since she's meant to be coming back to town today, and they didn't exactly part on the best terms. Hell, maybe it's Charlotte, come back to haunt him at long last, or Rebekah, or—

Bonnie. She smiles over at him, a slight curve of her mouth, gentle and sincere despite the look on her face. Relief hits him in a wave, then it crashes down on him in a cold aftershock of dread, and guilt, and a painful twinge in his chest. 

"Or something," he answers Landon's question, pursing his lips. He raises a hand to give a slight wave that's stilted and falters, before he glances back at him, feeling his questioning gaze. "Old friends. Had a...an ex in common, I guess."

"Oh," Landon says, nodding slowly. 

Damon takes the drink and slides out of his seat, approaching the other end of the bar. Bonnie just takes a sip of her own drink; bourbon as well, he notices with another pang in his chest. Stupid Valentine's day and stupid feelings, and stupid humanity switch that's gotten itself stuck constantly on the "on" side no matter how much he wants to shove it off.

"You hate bourbon," he states without greeting, deciding to just smash the ice instead of tapping away at it. "You said it tastes like a bad Christmas mixed with stale Halloween...whatever that means."

"Hmm." Bonnie hums around a mouthful of it, then swallows, smiling. "True. But Enzo loved it."

No warning, no flashing neon signs saying turn back now, or red flags waving wildly to get his attention. Just a calm statement, tossed out into the open air between them that's stifling and now thick with tension if it wasn't already before. Just hearing his name fall from her lips like that; the slight falter before, the way she emphasizes with a lilt of pain that he hasn't heard in two years.

Sighing, Damon sets his glass down and properly turns to her. "Thanks for the drink and all, but—"

"It's actually a bribe," Bonnie interrupts. "I spent last Valentine's drinking alone. Spent a lot of days doing that last year, and some of this year. Don't really feel like doing it again, and I've heard that you're a great drinking buddy, and just happen to be the perfect amount of self-loathing to wallow with me."

She glances up at him and motions to the stool next to her. Damon hesitates, just staring back at her. It's a bad idea, he can feel it. If he sits down, there's no escaping this and that's all he's really been trying to do for the last few hours. But when Bonnie rolls her eyes and gives a slight tilt of her head as if to ask _really?_ he doesn't have much of a choice. 

With another sigh, he sits down on the stool, much to her obvious satisfaction. Something about this doesn't feel right. He knows why, and he can't stop his eyes from darting around them despite knowing he's being an idiot. Still, the feeling of being watched isn't so easy to shake. 

"So," Bonnie starts, and takes a drink, tipping her head back and swallowing in one go, "should I take a guess at why you're here, alone, on Valentine's day, as if we weren't best friends at one point and I know exactly why you're here, or do you wanna just cut the bullshit?"

"Right on the first guess," he says in answer, though his voice is tight, setting his glass down. "Self-loathing and wallowing. My turn: why are you back? I thought you were away travelling the world. Paris, Italy, Spain, or whatever."

Bonnie shrugs, but he's not buying the nonchalance. "Caroline and Elena said they were going to come back for the weekend. They wanted to do a slumber party sort of thing, for old time's sake, I guess."

"Could have done it anywhere else," Damon points out. "I'm sure they would have agreed that old time's sake doesn't exactly have the happiest connotations when it comes to this place. For anyone."

Bonnie sighs and her shoulders sink down as if defeated. He can hear the weariness in the quiet noise, and when she turns her head to look him in the eyes, it's hard not to notice that hers are bloodshot and puffy, and everything about her is screaming of exhaustion. It reaches through him and grabs hold of the part of him that is as well. 

"Can we not do this?" she asks, shaking her head, all pretence falling away. "Please? This day's been hard enough already. I came here because...because I just thought, that with everything—maybe it would be easier. . ."

She swallows, trailing off, but she doesn't bother picking back up. He can't blame her. The hostility evaporates just like that, gone without a trace. It's hard for him to be anything but glad to see her right now, even if it's causing this clawing in his chest that makes him think someone's got their hand closed around his heart, except that thought makes it so much worse. 

Because every time he looks at her, all he can see is who should be there beside her, and he knows that it's the same for her when he's around. It's one of the reasons they haven't seen each other since she left for Paris almost two years to the date.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes fixing onto the bar. 

"No," Bonnie shakes her head, quickly wiping at her eyes. "Don't be. I know how much today sucks. For both of us."

Damon clenches his jaw, if only to avoid biting a hole through his cheek. He glances up at her from the corner of his eyes but stays quiet. In all honesty, he's not entirely sure what he could say. Nothing is going to help either of them. This hollow pain that's burning him from the inside that he knows is justified isn't going to go away just because he's not the only one feeling it. 

He stares at the glass in front of him then decides it can't do much harm and downs half of it. It does nothing to soothe the fire, just as expected. It at least adds a layer of numbness to his throat and, slowly, the inside of his chest, so that's something. Not a comfort, but something. Enough to make his mind a little less focused. But it's brief, sharpening back up with a few long, stretched-out seconds that feel like minutes of silence.

"What do you think he'd say?" Bonnie asks abruptly, staring ahead with a narrowed gaze. There's a pensive expression on her face when Damon shoots her an exasperated glance before rolling his eyes and scoffing. "Humour me, Damon. If Enzo was here, what do you honestly think he'd say about us sitting here like this, drinking away our grief?"

The word grief pierces him like a stake. He hasn't been thinking of it as grief. Grief was what he felt when he thought his mother died the first time around. It was what he felt when he thought he had lost Katherine. Grief was what he went through all of last year over Stefan and knowing that he was never going to see his brother again unless someone decided to finally end his own immortality, which he would honestly welcome.

Grieving Enzo doesn't feel right. It's like a betrayal. With Stefan, he knows that it was his choice. He wanted to save Damon, to sacrifice himself, to go down in a literal blaze of glory and save everyone else, even if it meant losing everything for himself. It's easier to accept that, because he made the choice to leave him. Enzo never made that choice. Grief feels like giving up. He promised he wouldn't do that to him again. 

And Bonnie's question makes him uneasy. The shiver of eyes that aren't there, watching, separated by an invisible barrier. As much as he doesn't want to, he can practically hear his voice. That stupid, practically melodic British voice that always somehow carried through into his laugh, vibrating deep in his throat and lighting up his face. The teasing tone he'd take when Damon wouldn't play along with his pointless mind games, and how he'd get up all close to him to soften his voice to a bare murmur that still rang clear as day. 

The glass whines under the tight pressure of his grip. He sets it down a little too harshly, his stomach clenched and his throat tight. Bonnie looks at him, but he just keeps staring at the table, reminding himself that, yes, vampires do in fact need to breathe, but a little slower to keep that supposedly undead heart of his from pulsing right out of his chest like it's currently trying to do. 

"Sorry," Bonnie says quietly. 

"I think..." He blows out a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to regain some sliver of composure and shaking his head slowly. His hands unclench, laying flat against the surface of the bar. "He would be lecturing us. For using him as an excuse to get drunk and be all self-pitying."

A small smile tugs at the corner of Bonnie's mouth as she makes a soft noise of agreement. 

"Yeah, he really did hate that. He, uh, he would say we should be finding a reason to enjoy the day and not focus on all the reasons to be miserable, even if they outweigh the good." She nods to herself, staring at her own glass. "That even the smallest amount of hope was enough reason to push through."

"Always the soldier," Damon mutters to himself. He imagines he can hear the faint sound of Enzo chuckling, see him rolling his eyes. 

Bonnie gives another hum of agreement, biting her bottom lip with a barely-there smile. Damon doesn't reach back out for his glass; as much as he'd like another drink, part of him is now aware of his own words and how Enzo would probably take it off of him if he was here. It's enough to stop him. 

Neither one of them speaks, letting beat after beat pass, filled instead with the quiet noises from the rest of the bar. There are couples scattered out across the tables, tucked away in booths and huddled together with secretive smiles as they celebrate the stupid holiday. Damon already hated it as it was, but when it also becomes the anniversary of someone's death, it kind of takes out any chance of ever enjoying it. 

He watches Landon bustle around from table to table, trying to do all of the work on his own with the one other staff member. By the look on his face, Damon guesses he doesn't enjoy Valentine's day all that much either. Can't blame the kid. Love isn't all that it's made out to be. At least not all the time, and when it is, it doesn't last. The Enzo-voice whispers some crap about hope.

Then, as he considers asking Bonnie if she wants to head out somewhere else, for just a walk or to see Caroline, he could care less, she says, in a gentle voice, "I know you were in love with him, too, Damon."

Instinct tenses him. His heart leaps up into his throat. It's the first time anyone's said it out loud, acknowledged it. He never even did. Not when he was trapped in that cell with Enzo for five years, the start of it all, not once throughout the fifty-five years he thought he was dead, not in the few weeks that he had him back, or even when he lost him _again_ , and definitely not when he came back only to side with Lily. And then Enzo was with Bonnie, and he couldn't say anything then, right? Then it was over. 

He glances at her only for her to lock his gaze, holding him there, looking back at him. There's no anger. No annoyance that one would expect when someone reveals they knew that you were in love with their ex-boyfriend while they were still together. There's understanding and openness, and an invitation to talk. Not to explain or argue. To acknowledge.

"If Enzo was here right now and heard you say that, he'd have the time of his life holding it over me," Damon jokes, but his voice can't seem to leave the edge of pain behind. "Bastard probably wouldn't stop gloating that he managed to charm both of us."

Bonnie smiles. That seems to be good enough for her. 

"It was the accent," she says, playing along with a shake of her head. "It would make anyone fall in love with him."

"We just happened to be the lucky ones."

Surprise flickers across Bonnie's face, and he feels a spark of it as well. But then it fades away because he's right. He smiles, and Bonnie nods.

"We were pretty lucky, weren't we?" she asks, leaning her head against her shoulder. 

There's a glint in her eyes, and he would worry she's going to cry again, but it's not sadness. It's that light; the one that comes with remembering the good things. The hope. Damn Enzo for always being right even when he's not around to know it. If he really is watching over them from wherever the hell he is, Damon just knows he's being all smug about it. 

Yet his mouth still curves a little more as he nods as well, not bothering to put up an act anymore. It's pointless with Bonnie. 

"Yeah," he breathes out a sigh. "Yeah, we were."

Silence falls back over them, and Damon knows they've got different memories running through their minds, but they all still come back to Enzo one way or another. To that hollow void that they're forever going to be left with because of him. For Damon, forever could be much longer. For the first time in a long while, the thought actually scares him.

With a long, heavy sigh, Bonnie slaps her hands firmly onto the bar, drawing his attention. He raises his eyebrows in question as she pushes herself up, a determined glint joining her eyes like a little sparkle put there through a mixture of a couple of drinks and getting it all off of her chest. 

"Come on," she says, motioning for him to do the same, "we are not spending the last...three hours of Valentine's day drinking ourselves to death. Enzo would be disappointed if we joined him too soon, and you know damn well he would find a way to throw us back here if he could."

Damon snorts, knowing that she's right, even if it would be impossible. "Alright," he says as he obliges, standing up. "Tell me then, Bon-Bon: where exactly should we go that wouldn't disappoint our dearly departed ghost of a..." he hesitates, his brow furrowing, "...wanna say boyfriend, would be wrong about that. Enzo the friendly vampire ghost? I mean, he certainly wasn't friendly the first time he was one, so I don't know how much fun he would be this time around."

Bonnie rolls her eyes at him and gives him a light shove to start him walking, already slipping money onto the bar for their drinks. 

"Now you're just asking for him to mess with you," she points out, and he grins, shrugging. "But I don't care where we go. A walk around town, to see Caroline, or Ric. Anywhere that doesn't have alcohol."

"Then not to see Ric."

"Shut up and walk faster."

Damon's grin widens, and Bonnie returns it in equal measure. To his surprise, it doesn't make his chest so tight that he feels like he's having the air squeezed out of him by a giant, or like there's a black hole inside of him in place of a heart. Enzo is still in the front of his mind, especially since one of the last times he saw her smile like that was when he was still alive and smiling just as wide. But he notices that the pain lessens the tiniest bit, and his mind latches onto that happiness instead of the loss. Maybe that's how he can do it. 

Eternity. Maybe every valentine's day that he's going to eventually lose count of doesn't have to be spent feeling like he's missing something and wallowing, as Bonnie put it. Maybe every memory of Enzo doesn't have to be buried deep down to ignore the grief. Maybe a little hope for the future isn't the worst thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I completely forgot that Valentine's Day was coming up until yesterday and didn't start writing this until today, so it's safe to say I was worried I was gonna finish this in time, but here we are! My Valentine's day gift to all of you: some Denzo/Bonenzo/sort of Bamon angst! I'm sorry, but I will never be over the fact that Enzo's death anniversary is today, like, could they have made this any crueller?? Anyway, please enjoy the angst!! 💜


End file.
